


Many Gifts

by alpine_street



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Manipulation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Missing Scene, Patron dreams, Takes place before the first attack on their way to Rumblecusp, soft resolution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:54:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25518391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alpine_street/pseuds/alpine_street
Summary: Fjord continues to dream of his former patron, even long after breaking their pact. The intent is no longer to retrieve Fjord, but to punish him. Uk'otoa has no limit to creative ways of doing so. But some things aren't so different, as Caduceus is still eager to sit by Fjord's bedside with him after a bad spell.While Fjord's dreams were never easy, at least they were predictable. But that too is about to change.Uk'atoa using the people he cares about against him is new.
Relationships: Caduceus Clay/Fjord
Comments: 10
Kudos: 131





	Many Gifts

_Punish._

It always felt the same. But Fjord was never ready for it. The turn in his stomach, the coughing that jerked him awake. It made sense: it was only his body telling him that he couldn’t breathe, that there was something blocking his pipes that he needed to get out. He felt it even before he was fully conscious, while the light of the eye with which he had become so familiar backlit his face as he stared at each of his companions. It felt like he could distantly hear the coughing already.

Cold water splashed his face. The salt burned his eyes and the spot on his bottom lip that he hadn’t been able to stop chewing. It tasted of brine and faintly of copper. He could breathe again, but his lungs were still screaming for air. So he continued to heave and hack and cough. 

He tried to rub the salt water from his eyes as he fought for air. It was still translucent, but it had come out in a pinkish hue. He dropped his head back onto his pillow, channeling his energy into breathing. They were weak breaths, shallow and heavy at the same time. Ragged, as if they scraped the insides of his chest and the lining of his lungs. The only feedback he was able to recognize in the space outside his body was a hand placed on his forehead.

“That’s it,” said a gentle, gravelly voice. “Breathe.”

Fjord did. In time, his breaths became quieter, and his chest did not rise as dramatically. Instead he felt cold. He began to shiver under his sheets that were now damp with sweat and seawater. The hand slid off. He opened his eyes. 

Caduceus smiled down at him. “I’m here.” 

Fjord only continued to shake. He balled his hand into a fist to grip the cold sheets tighter.

Caduceus nodded. He knelt below Fjord’s bedside and came back up with a thick down comforter. He put it over Fjord’s shaking form gingerly, and wiped a bit more sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. 

“Do you want some tea?”

Fjord nodded. 

Caduceus already had a kettle and herbs set up on the small stove that was built into the rise in the corner of the captain’s quarters, by the windowed door to the deck. Caduceus could simply flick his wrist and the stove would start. It was an impressive trick with what small flame he could produce. Fjord had seen him do it before, watching him cook in the galley.

He looked like he had come straight from his bed below deck. He was barefoot and wearing the silk shirt and loose trousers that were usually underneath his armor. He stood grinding something with a mortar and pestle as he waited for the water in the kettle to come to a boil. Fjord had little energy to speak. The minutes were mostly filled with sporadic, sharp coughs in an attempt to clear Fjord’s chest and throat of the rest of the seawater. The ship settling and the creaking of the boards against the waves made for a strange, monotonous ambiance. The oil lamp on the desk had been lit, and yellow light touched the corners of the room. 

“What are you doing up here?” Fjord rasped with what little voice he had. 

“I owe it to my intuition, if I’m being honest.” Caduceus didn’t look up. “It’s our first couple of nights out at sea since… you know. The last time we were out. I thought I’d put an ear to the door and see if you were sleeping ok.”

“And you brought your… tea.”

Caduceus shrugged. “I mean, it never hurts to be prepared.” The kettle began to whistle. “Maybe it’ll help you get back to sleep.” 

He carried a round cup full of steaming liquid to Fjord’s bedside and offered it to him. “It’s hibiscus and chamomile, if that’s what you were gonna ask me,” said Caduceus.

“Ask you what?”

“If it’s dead people tea. It’s not.” 

“Oh.” Fjord took the cup. It felt nice in his cold hands. His guess was that it was still too hot to drink, so he held the tiny cup to his chest and let it warm the rest of him, like a little stray sunbeam hitting him. As hard as he tried, his hands could not keep still enough that hot liquid didn’t spill over a bit and burn his fingers. Fjord welcomed this sensation as opposed to the cold. 

When Caduceus came back with his own cup, he pulled up a chair. He had a cloth towel in his hands that he mopped Fjord’s damp face with, wordlessly. He began with the sides. Caduceus used to ask if it was alright if he did things like this. Fjord would always nod, and eventually Caduceus stopped asking. The assumption was that if he was uncomfortable, Fjord would say something. Fjord never felt the need to. 

On one hand, Fjord felt embarrassed being waited on like this. But he knew that it made Caduceus feel better, so he allowed himself to indulge. He found that he was having less trouble breathing by the time Caduceus moved up into Fjord’s hair to dry it. His movements were slow, either so as not to shock an already frazzled Fjord or so as not to make him spill his tea. Fjord couldn’t tell. 

Eventually Caduceus sat down and sighed. “You gonna be ok?”

“Yeah,” Fjord mumbled. “I think so.”

“Do you want me to change the sheets on your bed?”

“No, it’s… it’s fine.”

Caduceus nursed his tea carefully. “Bad dreams?”

Fjord still didn’t have the stomach to join him, so he held onto his cup. “They’re starting to get a bit personal.” 

“Yeah?”

“I think Uk’otoa has a better grasp on my weaknesses now,” said Fjord.

“What do you mean?” Caduceus asked.

Fjord hesitated.

“I saw…everyone.”

Caduceus put a hand on Fjord’s shoulder. Fjord didn’t look at him. “I was in this dark space. The only thing I could see and hear at first was the water I was standing in. I had a torch in my hands, that was my only light, I remember that.”

“Was it deep water?” Caduceus asked.

“No, just barely up my calves. But I remember it was fucking cold,” said Fjord. “And I could see kind of a shimmer in the distance, a reflective surface of some kind, so I went towards it. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“What did you see?”

“I saw a wall of ice, stretching for miles upward,” he said. “At first I didn’t notice anything unusual about it, but… I heard the voice again. _His_ voice.”

Caduceus was nearly whispering now. “What did he say?”

“‘Punish,’” Fjord said. “And when I looked further down the wall, I saw someone in it. I saw Beau.” Fjord swallowed. “She was trapped in the ice, she wasn’t moving. Her face was all blue at the edges. And I went down the line and I saw Yasha and Jester and Caleb and Veth… It kind of reminded me of the stone menagerie.” 

“Oh. Yeah,” Caduceus said. “I can imagine.”

“They were like moments frozen in time,” Fjord said. “Veth had her crossbow. Caleb was all wound up about to cast a spell.”

“I probably was too, huh?”

Fjord paused. “You weren’t there, Caduceus.”

Caduceus’ ears flicked. “I wasn’t?”

“It was everyone but you. It’s strange thinking about it now.”

“Well, if everyone else was there that’s what would make sense, I suppose.” 

“It would especially make more sense if…” Fjord stopped himself. “I mean…”

Caduceus looked at him expectantly. 

“...If what Uk’otoa is trying to do is hurt me,” Fjord said sheepishly. “Scare me straight, you know?”

Caduceus’ lips parted, but he smiled awkwardly. “Is it selfish of me if that makes me happy?” he asked, squeezing Fjord’s shoulder a bit. 

Fjord bowed his head. “I mean… it’s true. Seeing you in there would have hurt.” 

“Are you worried?” Caduceus asked. 

“Honestly, I am,” said Fjord. “I mean, we’re back on the ocean. This is his domain.”

“But it’s yours too,” said Caduceus. 

Fjord ruminated on this. “Yeah.” 

Caduceus’ hand slid down Fjord’s arm. “The embrace of the Wildmother holds us in the ocean as it does in the mountains and in the forests. Anywhere that there is life is her garden. She’s looking out for you, Fjord. Protecting you.”

“Well, she’s protecting _us_ , anyway. The two of us.” Fjord looked down at the dying steam coming from his tea. “But who’s protecting everyone else? Who’s taking the blows from all the shit that could come at us from the ocean?”

“You are,” Caduceus said fondly.

Fjord looked at him incredulously. “Wh… me?”

“I mean, I would hope so.” Caduceus said. “Captain.”

Fjord chuckled. “Bangup job I’m doing, yeah?”

“You’re doing better than I could have ever hoped,” Caduceus set his cup on the ground and outstretched his arms. “Come here.”

Fjord tried his best to lean into a hug. He still felt embarrassed. But Caduceus gave good hugs. After all, he was a very large man with a thin layer of white fur resting atop his skin. Especially now that he wasn’t wearing any armor, his body felt like soft cotton. Fjord welcomed the contact, especially since he was still so cold. 

“The ocean will always be your domain,” Caduceus cooed. “This is your home.” He squeezed Fjord tightly. Fjord’s face brushed the surface of Caduceus’ skin right above the clavicle. He could just see over the swoop of his shoulder. “Coming back home shouldn’t have to be so frightening.”

“Mmm.” Just being held by Caduceus made Fjord sink into drowsiness. Perhaps it was the low vibrations of his voice, the warmth of his body, or a combination of the two.

“This is where you belong, Fjord. I can tell just by looking at how you operate out here that you’re in your element.” 

“That’s why I keep coming back to it, I suppose,” Fjord said. 

Caduceus cradled the back of Fjord’s head in one hand, brushing against its shaved edges. “Can I ask you to do something for me?”

“What?”

Caduceus’ lips were barely brushing Fjord’s forehead. His breath felt nice against Fjord’s skin. Left alone, Fjord could and would fall asleep like this. “If…if you go out from the ship at any point this trip, will you make sure you don’t wander too far?”

“Sure,” Fjord mumbled. “Why?”

“My own paranoia, mostly,” Caduceus whispered. 

Caduceus hadn’t exactly had the greatest experiences in the party when it came to the ocean. Fjord still felt guilty that Caduceus had anxiety associated with it. “I think I’ll be alright, Deucy, I’m a pretty strong swimmer.” 

“Even if you are…” Caduceus’ cadence had changed. Fjord couldn’t sense a smile in his voice anymore. “Go too far out and there’s creatures, storms, strong currents… the ocean is vast. And, well, Her garden is wild. Anyone could disappear and nobody would be any the wiser. And many people do.”

He gripped Fjord even tighter. Fjord could feel Caduceus’ fingernails digging into the surface of his scalp. Fjord’s nerves suddenly began to flare. “No.” Caduceus murmured. “Pardon me. Nobody disappears at sea.”

It was only then that Fjord noticed how cold Caduceus’ hands had become. How the warmth was slowly draining from his large frame. “Caduceus, I locked the door to the cabin before I bedded down,” Fjord realized. “How did you get in?”

Caduceus ignored him. “The ocean is a living entity all its own. Those who stray too far don’t disappear. They feed what lies beneath the surface instead,” Caduceus lowered himself mere centimeters away from Fjord’s ear. “It’s more like…”

Fjord’s breath hitched.

“They’re consumed.” 

There was a sharp pain in the crook of Fjord’s neck accompanied by the piercing sounds of blood and flesh. Fjord howled in the sudden agony. He pushed on Caduceus’ chest trying to get him off, but instead, with strength that Fjord was completely unaware that Caduceus possessed, Fjord was yanked from his bedding and thrown to the floor with a loud tumble, sheets flying off and blood leaving a skidded trail across the wooden floorboards. Caduceus rose from his seat. 

“But you’ve already wandered too far, haven’t you?” Caduceus mused. 

The Star Razor refused to make itself known, despite Fjord frantically calling for it to appear in his hand. His palm remained quivering and empty. The other was pressed onto the open mouth of the wound on his shoulder, even though it made the pain infinitely worse. He frantically scrambled up and stumbled to the other side of the room. He kept flicking his hand, but he never felt the hilt of the sword in his palm. Not even the arcane sensation of it coming forward from the ether. The only thing his palms touched was the wall of the captain’s quarters he had backed himself into. 

Caduceus still smiled at him through the large stain of blood wetting his lips and chin, spattering even lower to stain his otherwise clean silk shirt. His eyes were closed. “Even if you were foolish enough to return, I’m overjoyed that you understand how this all works, Fjord.” When he opened them, the gentle cleric’s eyes were not his own. They glowed a bright, otherworldly yellow with black slits for pupils. 

Fjord recognized them immediately. 

Every step that Caduceus took, the creaking of the floor, however slow, made Fjord’s heart sink. “The mother has given you so many gifts. Some are so splendid that the gifts of others must surely pale in comparison, right?” Caduceus drawled. “So what do you do when someone gives you something that you don’t want?”

Fjord saw his breath in the air. The room had suddenly become very cold. His cheeks had begun to burn with frostbite. He could even swear that he saw bits of frost spreading at the corners of Caduceus’ still friendly face.

“You give it back.” 

Fjord beelined for the door of the cabin, but with strength and speed that was still unbecoming of frail Caduceus, he was seized and wrestled back up against the wall. Fjord flailed, trying to push him back, but he was outmatched. He was dragged to the ground and held there as he cried in protest.

Another wave of sharp, searing pain came from Fjord’s stomach, along with the sounds of flesh being torn open. Fjord screamed, the pain in his shoulder now paling in comparison to the sensation of lithe fingers forcibly pushing themselves beneath his skin. He could see each scream in a puff of steam as it left his mouth and vanished into the frigid air. Even the blood that poured out of him ran cold. 

Fjord kept grasping for the Star Razor. His palm still was empty. 

Caduceus laughed fondly. “There.” His hand disappeared inside of Fjord’s stomach, unbothered by the gushing of the wound and the noises that it made. Fjord didn’t try to stop him. All of his energy was going into trying to manage the pain that came from it. Caduceus pulled from the bloody maw of mottled flesh and organs a circular, almost perfectly spherical yellow stone that omitted a faint glow. There were thin trails of blood carving paths down it. 

The muscles in Fjord’s wrist were beginning to hurt trying to summon the sword. Still nothing. 

Caduceus’ face was now rimmed with ice, his lips beginning to turn blue and tremble. Still, he smiled. He held the stone up to his forehead. In Fjord’s dimming vision, it looked like Caduceus had a third eye in his forehead. When he opened his mouth again, his voice was no longer his own either. It was, but there was something else. Almost as if someone was talking over Caduceus in his own words, in a familiar, haunting, guttural growl. “I saw so much in you, Fjord.”

_Fjord._

Caduceus took Fjord’s face in his hands. “I still do.” Small slits began to form in the flesh of Caduceus’ cheeks and neck. They opened in unison to reveal even more glowing yellow eyes, all trained on Fjord. 

Amid his cries, Fjord was beginning to fade. His hand still reached into the empty air trying to seize his blade. He could hear another voice, a faint one, calling his name.

 _Fjord._

Caduceus’ lips were moving, but Fjord couldn’t hear what he was saying anymore. His ears were ringing. His vision was blurred and waning. His hand was still empty of the hexblade, no matter how hard he tried. But the distant voice became louder. 

_It's ok.  
_

It was as if he had only blinked. Caduceus’ face was still over him, speaking amid Fjord’s screams. His brows were furrowed. 

“Fjord?”

At last Fjord felt the hilt of the Star Razor in his hand, and the second that his fingers could curl around it, he swung it wildly, the sound of slitting flesh ringing through his chambers. There was another cry, but this one was not Fjord’s. 

Caduceus stumbled backward onto the ground, holding his stomach. Fjord wasted no time hugging the wall. His hand was shaking, holding the now blood-spattered blade. His legs were tangled in a mess of sheets. 

Sheets. 

Fjord froze. Somehow he had moved.

The cabin was dark. No lamps were lit, and Fjord was sat up in bed, drenched in sweat and pointing the bloodied Star Razor at the figure he now recognized as Caduceus. The figure that was slumped over, one arm barely holding himself aloft over the ground and his other arm clutching his stomach. Caduceus’ eyes were as wide as saucers as he groaned in pain, bright red blood creeping out from where he held his abdomen. 

The Star Razor fell from Fjord’s hand and clattered to the ground. Caduceus coughed, a thin string of pink spit falling from his mouth. There was only strain and distress in his voice. 

He looked at Fjord in hurt confusion. His eyes were his own, large and docile. Fjord still looked back in fear. The yellow glow that they had previously was not so easily forgotten. 

There was a knock at the door. 

“Fjord?” 

It was the voice of Jester, its usual, playful tone replaced with one of worry.

“Fjord, is everything ok?”

Fjord looked back at Caduceus in panic. Caduceus was still struggling to right himself. But gradually, he was able to sit up straight and conjure a steady breath. He looked at Fjord, eyes still wide, and held a finger to his lips. Standing up revealed a large spot of blood that had pooled and sunk into the floor, and droplets from his wound followed Caduceus’ footsteps as he limped toward the door. 

Fjord began to panic. He didn’t want Jester to see him like this, and he certainly didn’t want her to see what he had done. But Caduceus needed attention from someone who could heal.

Caduceus sucked in a long breath and cracked the door open. 

He spoke in a voice that was not at all indicative of any kind of discomfort. “Ah, Jester. ‘Evening.” He sounded pleasantly surprised to see her. Fjord noticed that he was holding the door so that just his head and shoulders were visible.

“Caduceus, what are you doing here?” asked the perplexed voice of Jester.

“I just came up to check on Fjord. See if he was sleeping alright. Call it a hunch,” said Caduceus. “What brings you here?”

“I was sitting on the deck drawing in my sketchbook and I thought I heard screaming coming from the captain’s quarters,” Jester said meekly. 

“Huh. Seems like we had the same idea.”

“Is Fjord ok in there? Can I see him?” Jester insisted. She leaned so that Fjord could just barely see her. He turned and hid his face on instinct. “Fjord are you ok? I heard yelling.”

“Er… Fjord’s on the mend. He was just having a bad dream and it got a little intense.” Caduceus looked back. Fjord peeked one eye out to see him. “How are you doing, Fjord?” 

Fjord was speechless for a moment. There was so much in Caduceus’ smile. To anyone on the outside, it would look sincere. And maybe it was. There was love behind it, the same love that Caduceus was so generous with for everyone, the love that at times, the people who got it didn’t deserve. All while he was holding his stomach and attempting to stabilize a gaping wound.

“I’m ok,” Fjord muttered. 

Caduceus turned back. “He’s not really in great shape for visitors, I don’t think. I’m gonna leave him alone to rest here in a minute.”

“Oh...ok.” Jester sounded defeated. “Hey, um, Fjord, if you can hear me… I’m just going to be sitting near the mast and playing with Sprinkle. So I guess I’m here if you need something, ok? I’ll just be right outside.”

“Thank you, Jester,” said Fjord.

“Thanks, Jester,” Caduceus echoed. “You have a good night.”

“You too.” She peered in once more. “Good night, Fjord.”

Caduceus waited for Jester to leave and shut the door. As soon as it clicked shut, he doubled over and gasped. He fell to his knees, seething through gritted teeth and leaning on the door for support. 

“Caduceus--”

Fjord tried to get up. Caduceus held a hand out without lifting his head. “Quiet.” 

“I-I’m sorry--” Fjord choked. 

“Fjord. Be quiet,” Caduceus groaned. “I need to concentrate.”

Fjord could hear low, rapid muttering under Caduceus’ breath. A soft, pink glow emanated from the front of his body. The faint scent of flowers, tea leaves, and honey wafted around the room. It was calming in its own way. When the glow finally faded and Caduceus’ prayers subsided, he fell to the ground and lay on his side, exhausted.

What Fjord wanted was to run to his side. But his mind and body were still shell-shocked. Who was to say that when he turned Caduceus over, his eyes would not be glowing bright yellow?

“You know,” Caduceus mumbled between breaths, “You should really be locking your door at night.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.” 

“I don’t know what came over me,” Fjord stammered.

“I think I might have an idea,” Caduceus wheezed. Fjord was a little taken aback by Caduceus’ bluntness.

Caduceus slowly stood, but when he looked at Fjord, Fjord flinched back into the wall. 

Just the same. Two big, purple, bovine eyes. One hand reaching toward his own. Fjord smacked it away in terror. 

Caduceus looked bewildered. 

“Tell me the name of the goddess you worship,” Fjord demanded.

“Melora the Wildmother,” Caduceus said.

Not enough. He said her name back then, too. 

“And the home that you come from?”

“The Blooming Grove in the Savalierwood.”

“What’s your father’s name?”

“Cornelius Clay.” 

Fjord relaxed his shoulders a bit. 

“Fjord. What happened?” Caduceus asked sternly. 

He tried to keep it in, but it soon proved fruitless. His face was already twisting into a grimace. Fjord dug his palms into his eyes and began to sob. 

“Hey, hey.”

Two arms gently wrapped around his shoulders. One hand cradled the back of his head. Just like last time. But even now it felt different. So different, in fact, that Fjord felt foolish being lured into it before. Fjord wove his arms around Caduceus and squeezed him tightly, pressing his face into his chest. 

“I’m here,” whispered Caduceus. 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you liked that. I've been reading a lot of pieces about Fjord and patron dreams and I wanted to write my own. My creativity and motivation is back somewhat now that Critical Role started back up with streaming new episodes ("Help, it's again!" is slowly becoming my mantra).
> 
> Feel free to leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed, and if you just wanna talk about your day or a cool dog that you saw, go ahead and do that too! I hope you're staying safe in these weird-ass times.


End file.
